


Something Beats On My Coffee Table

by DesertLetters



Category: Death by Dying (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 02:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30031305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertLetters/pseuds/DesertLetters
Summary: Do not read if you haven't finished Season 1, Episode 5 of Death by Dying.The Obituary Writer has been having trouble sleeping.
Relationships: Obituary Writer (Death by Dying)/Charlotte Dawson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Something Beats On My Coffee Table

**Author's Note:**

> AGAIN LAST CHANCE SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 5 OF DEATH BY DYING.
> 
> This podcast literally grabbed me by the throat and owns my life right now.
> 
> Also just,,, THEM. ;u;

Another sleepless night.   
  
The Obituary Writer groaned from his place on the couch. His bed was foreign to him at this point. Moonlight shone through the curtains exposing an eccentric looking living room. Taxidermy, ominous trinkets, and persian rugs kept his living space looking occupied.   
  
It's been a little over a month since the happenings of 1600 Cherry Street and the graveyard. A little over a month of questions without an answer in sight floating through his head. Doubts and anxiety. He tried not to dwell on the question of if he would find her again.   
  
Charlotte's heart had found its home on the Obituary Writer's coffee table. Every morning he would occupy the space across from it. Even though it belonged to a close friend, he felt shy and had trouble even greeting it in the morning. The rhythmic beating against the glass jar which held it did give him relief. There was still hope in every thump. Perhaps that's what he needed to sleep, a moment with Charlotte.   
  
He made a move to get off the couch when--   
  
**_CRASH!_**  
  
The sound spread anxiety through his bones. He panicked and shot up from his sleep. Were his three very normal and not maneating cats up to their nightly tricks? He searched with adrenaline kicking through him, but they were nowhere to be found. What he did find was broken glass. Careful not to cut himself he kneeled to pick up the pieces on the floor.

The moon's light glazed over the shards and he found they had some blood on them. Curious. The Obituary Writer could only assume there was a wounded cat somewhere in his place. That was until he realized what the shards were from.   
  
_Charlotte's jar._  
  
Which was currently empty.   
  
"The cats... No, no, no!" The man pleaded and began to scurry all over searching for any of the felines.  
"This can't be happening." He threw himself on the floor to look under furniture.  
"Charlotte, I'm so sorry. Please--"   
  
"And what are you sorry for, Obituary Writer?"

"I lost your heart!"   
  
"Don't worry! I found it!"   
  
He sighed with relief and rose from the floor. "Thank goodness, I thought--"

A sudden icey feeling washed over him upon the realization he wasn't alone.   
  
_Peaches._ The sweet aroma met his nose. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on the figure standing right outside the moonlight.   
  
"You left the door unlocked," she giggled nervously. "You should be better about that."   
  
The Obituary Writer's expression was taken back as he scratched the back of his neck. "I think... just for tonight it was okay. To leave unlocked that is."   
  
There was a silence then. Both figures didn't move from their spots. The Obituary Writer was bathed in moonlight as the other was still in darkness. He needed to see. He needed to know it was truly her.

A step towards the darkness.   
  
"Charlotte, is that--"   
  
It happened fast, but the figure scrambled from the darkness and threw her arms around him. He was frozen from the sudden embrace, but melted into her arms and wrapped his around her. She was warm and soft. His eyes met a messy bun and he smiled before letting them fall closed.   
  
"I missed you."   
  
His voice reached her, but she kept her face pressed against him silently.   
  
"I thought-- I was going to do anything I could to bring you back. Could we, uh... not talk about how I decided to live on my couch?"   
  
She pulled away to smile up at him, their arms still enveloping each other. They never embraced like this before. The Obituary Writer was more occupied with thoughts of how his friend came back from the dead, but it didn't slip his mind how amazing this hug felt. His chest felt tight at the sudden awareness of how fast his heart was beating.   
  
"I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought life... didn't have a place for me. While I was just a wayward soul I had time to think things over and, well..."   
  
Charlotte was looking into the Obituary Writer's curious eyes. He looked to be in a trance, absorbing every word she spoke. Her smile widened.   
  
"What I found out was I did have a place in life. It was so simple, but I didn't understand at the time. My place is with you, Obituary Writer."   
  
His arms dropped from around her. Some incoherent noises left him. Usually having something to say, he was at a loss for words. What was just spoken to him was so kind and genuine. From someone he truly cared about. His best friend.  
"Charlotte, I--"   
  
"I-I've been wanting to do this... If it's okay with you?"   
  
He raised an eyebrow, "What do you--?"   
  
And his question was answered as hands held his face and lowered him a bit.   
  
Her lips were soft and she tasted like-- Of course-- peaches. Her lips pressed against the startled Obituary Writer's, his heart threatening to be the next one in a jar.   
  
My friend. My best friend. Cold walks at night. Soft laughter shared between us. Walrus haikus. The peach pits. Her funeral. The hours spent holding her heart, missing the person it belonged to. Knowing what this feeling was, but being too afraid to recognize it.   
  
The Obituary Writer sighed against Charlotte's lips before kissing back, pulling her closer.   
  
Acceptance.   
  
"Oh, Charlotte. Please, try not to leave me again. I can't--" He silenced himself by deepening the kiss.   
  
Charlotte let out little moans against him as the Obituary Writer allowed his passion to flow through. She slid her hands off his face and clutched his shirt. He let himself trace her hips with his hands. Then he felt himself be lead backwards.   
  
Through a gasp she spoke, "I missed you so much. I'm going to make it up to you everyday, Obituary Writer."

His lips were on hers again as she continued backing him towards the couch.  
He peppered her with kisses down her jaw and to her neck. Her name ghosted across her own skin as he placed open-mouthed kisses there.   
  
"Charlotte. Charlotte. Oh God, I love--"   
  
Her hand pulled his hair abruptly, a whine leaving him as she pressed a hard kiss against his lips once more. Her fists gripped his shirt and pulled him closer.   
  
_Closer._   
  
**_Closer._**   
  
So close he thought he was going to break. Then a push.  
As he fell back against the couch, he was able to catch a glimpse of Charlotte. She was smiling.   
  
It didn't... reach her eyes.   
  
He landed against the cushions and immediately his eyes shot open.   
  
It was morning.   
  
The cats were crying. Not for flesh, but for normal cat food like normal cats eat. He felt like he lost more sleep than gained it. His eyes scanned the area. Nothing broken.   
  
The coffee table?  
Still home to a beating heart in a jar.   
  
He sighed and got up to start his morning routine.

A cup of joe and some dish with eggs were placed across from Charlotte. The Obituary Writer slid in and where he was usually shy with his mornings with Charlotte, today was different. He was determined.   
  
"I made a list. I think you might be interested in my thoughts."   
  
Beats against glass were his only response. He smiled.   
  
"Glad you agree! Now let's get started! There's a few people I think--"   
  
He excitedly exclaimed to Charlotte's heart his plans for getting her back in hopes she would hear him.  
Wherever she was he was going to get her back. There was no other option.

His place... was with her.


End file.
